


Leap

by BitterlyByronic (A_Little_Bit_Broken)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/F, Fem!John - Freeform, Fem!Sherlock, I named her Jo, Post-Reichenbach, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Bit_Broken/pseuds/BitterlyByronic
Summary: Jo and Sherlock have a bit of a talk





	Leap

"Have you ever thought of flying?" Sherlock asks, voice molasses slow and hushed in the night air.

Jo looks over at her, holds her breath, shrugs. “Sometimes," she says slowly, tasting the words. She looks away again. Up at the night sky. There are no stars she can see, but if she stares long enough, it feels like falling up. It feels like drowning. It feels like being free. "More often after-- Well, after.” 

Sherlock nods. She knows. She doesn't try to apologise. Jo's not sure how that makes her feel. 

"I’m glad you didn’t try. I don’t think you would be very good at it.” She takes a drag of her cigarette, exhales heavily, smoke puffing out of her nose in unattractive streams.

Jo wants to tell her not to smoke, that she should take better care of her health, but she knows Sherlock wouldn’t listen. If she wanted a fix, she would find her way to get it. And in the end it was hardly one of Sherlock's worst vices. Instead she gives a sharp laugh. “No, I don’t think I would be. I've always been the one of the two of us with my feet planted on the ground."

Always the one left running after, never able to touch Sherlock at her heights. Jo hunches in on herself a little.

Sherlock flairs her wings out behind her, dark and full, a counterpoint to Jo's internal thoughts. “I used to think about taking you flying. I can’t, not really -- the weight would be too much to get much height -- but I used to think about it. I always imagined you would be so impressed.”

“I would have been,” Jo agrees. She laughs, short and sharp and not at all a sob. She stares out at London, laid out in front of them, dark and beautiful in the night, outlined in the lights of people living their lives. Jo and Sherlock are sitting on the roof of the flat, precariously perched, both in body and in word, and Jo doesn’t know where this conversation is going, but she allows Sherlock to lead, as she does.

"Do I still impress you now? This me… is she still worthy of admiration? After everything I've done?" 

Sherlock sounds almost unsure to Jo's ears and though she doesn't look outwardly anxious, Jo see the slight restless twitching of her fingers in the dim light even as she takes another drag on her cigarette. 

Jo takes her time, thinks about her answer. She doesn't want to come off as flippant, doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

"You were never unworthy of admiration, Sherlock. And you certainly have never needed to impress me. I…" And here Jo breathes deep, steels her resolve. "I love you. You do mean, and have always meant, so much to me. But you hurt me too. A lot. Whether you meant to or not. And so, no, I won't always be looking at you with admiration but I _will_ be looking at you. I want to see you. And that means everything."

Sherlock is quiet for a long time. Her cigarette burns low and she stubs it out. Jo is well into regretting laying herself so bare when Sherlock asks, soft as a whisper in the wind, "Can I kiss you?"

Jo gapes, certain she's heard wrong. But when she looks over Sherlock is staring back, a determined sort of look in her eyes. 

Jo thinks she might be dreaming. "I- I thought romance and the like weren’t your area." It really is the wrong thing to say and not what Jo means at all. Luckily Sherlock seems to understand that. 

"It isn't but I think you might be an exception. I would like to try."

It's not a promise that Sherlock won't change her mind in the end. Decide she really isn’t interested in that regard, after all. But Jo can't not say yes. She has to take the risk. And so, she leans forward, taking a leap of faith as her lips press softly against Sherlock’s. She tastes smoke and feels Sherlock’s mouth curve up as her wings fold around to enfold them both. It feels like falling up, in the very best way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wanted rule 63 wing fic and couldn't find any. Just a snippet but imagining their world. Maybe I will come back to them.


End file.
